


Like a Testosterone Overdose

by Medie



Category: Angel: the Series, The Pretender
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-23
Updated: 2010-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wolfram and Hart?" Broots echoes. "Who's that?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Testosterone Overdose

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://lollobrigida.livejournal.com/profile)[**lollobrigida**](http://lollobrigida.livejournal.com/) for my Birthday Drabble-A-Thon.

There are some stories which must never be told. Tales of things the average person believes have been relegated to the realm of the imagination, emerging in book and movie to terrify before slithering back into the dark. Safely stored out of harm's way so reasonable adults can sleep at night.

What a crock.

Parker has days when she suspects she would be considered one of those things, knows that the Centre is. The things she sees on the walk to her office is enough to induce bedwetting in those reasonable adults.

"Just another day at the office," she muses and wishes for a cigarette. The sound of rapidly approaching squeaky shoes makes her stop and, without turning, she says, "What now, Broots?"

He comes to a stop before her, clearing his throat. "Uh, sorry? There's a Lilah Morgan upstairs to see you. She's been there for an hour and she's getting pretty insistent, says she's expected."

The wish for a cigarette turns to a screaming need at the name and Parker rubs her temple. "Great," she mutters, unwilling to admit she'd forgotten the appointment. "Wolfram and Hart."

"Wolfram and Hart?" Broots echoes. "Who's that?"

"Satan's consigliores," Parker snaps and spins away, stalking toward the elevator. Her mood rapidly deteriorating, she sees Broots retreat just before the doors close.

She'll never admit to the twinge of envy she feels; watching him disappear in the other direction.

Parker has been dealing with Wolfram and Hart since her corporate days. Meetings with whichever the firm chose to send were tantamount to a tango on razor blades. Since the escape of the Centre's favorite lab rat and her transfer back to the field, the phrase salt in the wound had taken on a whole new, _special_ meaning.

Wolfram and Hart's obsession with Jarod bordered on levels nearing 'Fatal Attraction'. If Jarod had a bunny, Holland Manners would have been eating rabbit stew years ago.

"Lilah," Parker purrs, sweeping into her office wit hall the flare of a royal on walkabout. "So good to see you." She smiles, a cat eyeing a fat, juicy canary and lets Lilah play at a friendly greeting. "How have you been? It's been too long."

"Well," Lilah waves a hand, taking a seat and crossing her legs. "I've been a little out of touch." She smiles. "You might say I was on special assignment for the firm."

She's lying; Parker can practically smell the brimstone. "Oh, of course," she says. "Work can be murder." Especially at the Centre. She leans back, relaxing into the soft Italian leather chair. "So, what exactly brings you to Blue Cove?" Her eyes narrow with suspicion as she carefully watches Lilah's reaction.

If she has to deal with Wolfram and Hart, Parker prefers Lilah. They save their games and doubletalk for things that aren't Jarod.

"Her." Lilah pushes a picture across the glossy surface of the desk. "You never mentioned Jarod had a sibling other than Kyle."

He has two, but who's counting? Parker spares a glance for the surveillance photo. It's black and white but her mind's eye can easily add the reddish tint the young woman's wavy hair. She permits herself no visible reaction but a shiver runs through her just the same. They know about Jarod's sister - about Emily. Oh god.

"We're under no requirement to keep Wolfram and Hart apprised of every detail of Jarod's life." Parker says, folding her hands lightly. "I think your superiors have forgotten who is the client here. The Centre answers to it's board of directors, not an infrequent client."

The warning is blatant, the verbal lashing as sharp as any whip could have been. Lilah straightens and her face darkens. "We do when you have no Pretender capable of fulfilling our requests. Have you identified whether or not that she _is_ a Pretender?"

Not that they've told Parker but she refrains from saving. "That is none of your concern."

"I believe we've already covered that," Lilah says. "Why hasn't she been brought in to determine that. She could be useful."

"She's more useful to us where she is," Parker grits out. "She's Jarod's only living siblings we can use that. If we bring her here, the only thing we accomplish is damning ourselves."

She smiles, silk over steel. "And we take over clients with us." Wishing for the light feel of a cigarette between her fingers, Parker crosses her legs. "The hunt for Jarod is precarious at best." She let her smile tighten. "Wolfram and Hart has experience with pushing the heroically-minded too far. Tell me," she wonders casually, "how is Angel doing?"

Lilah scowls and says nothing.

Parker rises to her feet, secure now in her domination. "We'll handle the situation with Jarod _and_ his family. Wolfram &amp; Hart can handle the deal on Mr. Raines's soul." She goes to the door. "It was good to see you, Lilah. We should do this again sometime soon." Perhaps three days after hell freezes over."

"Of course," Lilah agrees easily, wise enough to know there is no more negotiation.

Parker lets the door swing shut behind her with a satisfied smile.

The pursuit of Jarod's _hers_, just like the man himself. Wolfram &amp; Hart can burn in hell for all she cares.


End file.
